Grounded

The staccato slap

of a door

my only answer.

I opened a book

I wasn't reading,

the radio in its secret drawer

chirped verboten dreams,

a bee whirling

in the hive of my heart.

I was the stuff of honey,

the flower flattened

by rain. My name was mangled.

See the doorway

edged in light? I proved light

by shadows.

I spelled myself.

Love, like a library book,

changed hands.